The Brand that Jailbirds Make

During the course, an idea from a conversation with my father came along. On a rainy evening in Singapore, he said that at the request of a friend, the then Additional Director General of Police of Prisons, he had visited a prison in Tamil Nadu. The request to my father was to help the prisoners manufacture shoes better and in a more efficient manner. This being the first time for me hearing anything about prisons, other than my common knowledge at the time from movies like most people, inmates breaking bricks or playing a big boss villain (which by the way is super far away from the truth) made me think about the possibilities. Questions started popping up to find out more. Could this activity of footwear manufacturing be explored, would it be possible to actually work with inmates and tap into such a huge untapped potential workforce, would a company be able to produce footwear from a prison and sell it to the world and brand it as a socially responsible initiative??

The inquisition at the time was at peak. I put in all the time I had into finding answers and learning about the prisons of India, the statistics, was there any private company working with prisoners, how safe would the environment be, what would be the costs, how would the model be set, and I knew then, that this was the topic for my dissertation—a realistic business model, a postgraduate’s dream. I knew I had found something to look forward to again. It gave me the strength to hope and believe again. It took me about three months to complete my research and by the end of the dissertation I was convinced, there is a problem and that I had a realistic solution. After all that’s what MBA was all about, finding a solution after identifying a problem, or is that the mantra to a business idea?

Seaming together: This was the beginning of a new chapter. I knew a little about the trade of leather and footwear through my father and grandfather’s many endeavours during their journey as businessmen. It helped me gather a lot of data and connect with the who’s who of the footwear industry in India. It was important for me to keep the idea a secret until I was ready to begin the start-up journey. My questions along this journey were mostly to understand the trade better and about the problems being faced by the majority. Now the time had come, to start. At first, both my father and grandfather were sceptical. I remember, after two months of convincing, my father agreed to set up a meeting with the Prisons head of Tamil Nadu to discuss my idea with him. That meeting went on for three hours and towards the end of that meeting, I knew that my father was convinced. On our way back in the car, he spoke of the possibilities, and it felt, in that moment, that someone important had just joined my team. I was not wrong about the feeling. Since that day I may have doubted myself on multiple grim situations but, he has been my pillar, always asking me to trust myself and believe in my own capabilities.

Unfortunately, the first drafted proposal that we submitted to the Tamil Nadu Prison Authority was declined. I took this as an opportunity to join my father’s leather business. Tanning of leather and selling the produce at the time was being carried out in a remote area called Ranipet in Vellore district. It was a difficult time adjusting, the heat was dry, and it would invariably be upwards of 40 degrees Celsius most days. Almost 99% of the people spoke only Tamil and I did not know a single word of it. I was in Singapore two months earlier, where my day began late and the city was vibrant.

In contrast, Ranipet was slow—by 7 pm dinner was done and I had no friends or company here. I had to appoint a translator to communicate with the workers. The best outing was a small highway cafe, 15 minutes from the tannery, that served good filter coffee. I spent six months in that place and absorbed as much knowledge as I possibly could. Although I was passionate, the loneliness eventually got to me. I decided immediately to move to Chennai and work with another partner of my father’s who was a leather trader. It was a city, and I could at least try to prepare a bit more to reach out to prison authorities from there, which I did, on multiple occasions. I would get the same reply.

It was in December 2016 that I had had enough. I did not see where it was all taking me and I wanted to do the thing I had come back for and if that was not happening, I was not going to stay in Chennai or India. So, I informed my father and started to make a resume. I moved back home. A few weeks later I got an opportunity to become a sourcing agent for Arvind brands. It was a sweet deal—work with designers to build a collection, purchase raw materials, get it manufactured and ship. I found an initial investor, a well-wisher from Singapore, who invested about ₹20 lakh for the first order that I had received from Arvind. The second order was considerably larger and required an investment of 60, which I managed to arrange through another investor. I was making enough money from the word go and saved a handsome amount by the end of the second order. It was too good to be true, and it did not last. The CEO of the company was fired overnight and the whole team was scattered. It was at this time, without even looking for it, that the Maharashtra Prison Department returned my email with a positive response after three months! The long, long wait had come to an end.

I got around to closing my first contract after 2 years. In February 2017 I was going to be working with the inmates of Yerawada Central Jail in Pune. I carried a lot of emotions with me again, only this time, it was hope, inquisitiveness and hunger to prove myself and of course high on confidence. I remember the day I was to give my first speech at the opening ceremony of our new factory at Yerawada. There was a crowd of over 5,000 inmates along with many police officers. I was nervous and I wasn’t fluent with Marathi—so I spoke in English. I still don’t know what I said that day, but I saw my parents in the crowd. My dad’s eyes were glittering, and my mother could not stop smiling. That sight, I will cherish till the very end.

Toeing right: It took me about eight months to understand the ways of working inside a prison, and I realised very early that this would only work if I could gain the trust of the prisoners. Then, and only then, would they be committed completely. During this period, I individually spoke to a lot of inmates and tried to get a sense of how they think and funnily I could relate. It might read funny to you as a reader, but I am a product of a boarding school and in a lot of ways their problems could be solved with the solutions I found for myself while trying to survive in a boarding school and, it did wonders. After a couple of months of training I arranged to get job work orders from an exporter from Mumbai. This gave my team and I a sense of how to deal with timelines. Once I felt the team was ready, I reached out to Mumbai-headquartered Metro Shoes, to manufacture for them as a white label manufacturer. We did that but not very consistently.

Burnishing some more: It was a difficult learning process for me personally. Once you set up manufacturing, you need to be consistent with your input and output or you lose money. I was an individual in a new territory, with no experience of manufacturing or running a business. I was trying to train and skill some of the most difficult people and I was running out of resources faster than perceived.

I managed to get in some industry experts to advise but I realised that most solutions offered to me would not work. I had a unique model, something that was not quite heard of and so I needed something unique to get out of the problem of consistency, er… in-consistency. That’s when the idea of starting my own brand came to mind and it excited me. I started to work on a product line immediately. It all came together in about four months, the ideation, the product range, the marketing angles, the packaging and most importantly the sale points. Metro shoes, Regal and INC5 were all on board and offered my brand a space in their stores.

September 2019 saw the launch of ‘Inmate’ with the tag line ‘Bringing Humanity to Leather’, and the response was overwhelming. We sold out our first range in a couple of months. The solution was found for now and I continued to build the brand stronger and growing its presence.

It’s been six years since I signed my first contract, and today I have a team of over 250 members. We are looking to grow at every opportunity, so we could inspire more inmates to dream. Inmate as a brand has found its place in the market with a gradually growing conscious customer base. I have managed to build three manufacturing facilities across 3 states, producing over 300,000 pairs a year for some of the best brands in the country.

When I look back, I realise how difficult it was to train prison inmates. Again, that was a steep learning curve for me. While I took a year and a half then, today if I have to set up a manufacturing facility in a prison, I can do it within three months and get output from the fourth month!

When it comes to sourcing leather, we do so only from LWG Gold Rated tanneries from all over India. Pre-pandemic most of the trims were imported from China, but now it is only from here. Today Inmate has an annual turnover of around ₹8 crore. Of course, it took us three years to break even with an initial investment of about ₹2 crore. We are new to exports, having done just one order for a brand (sandals for men and women) in Germany.

I can proudly affirm that I dared to dream and believed to see through my struggles with the help of a few alongside me. It’s been a roller coaster of a journey so far. I did face a lot of rejection. I did have to grind and fight my way up. I did have to learn most things the hard way. I did have to unlearn and learn anew. I did have sleepless nights. I had to become socially unavailable—but all of this only got me stronger and more determined. I believe that’s what it takes to be your own boss, an entrepreneur and a successful one.